


Junkyard Mans

by slapsmaxxxmcgee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body odor, M/M, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Small Penis, Stiles Stilinski has a Small Dick, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18902395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slapsmaxxxmcgee/pseuds/slapsmaxxxmcgee
Summary: Stiles, Scott, and Lydia encounter a witch who manages to curse Stiles to be a smelly boy; thankfully Scott is really into it.





	Junkyard Mans

There’s a bang that sounds from the basement, shakes the feeble wooden floorboards and has Scott look to Stiles, who looks back, and then they both look to Lydia; who wrinkles her nose at the smell of sulfur. Another bang, the sound of breaking glass, a cackle whips through the air and has all three of them turn sharply on their heels to stare into the basement stairwell where a naked witch stands panting with a vial in one hand the other pointing at Stiles.

Lydia says “Shit,” and ducks out of the way while, behind her, Scott unleashes his claws and charges. 

In an instant, he has his hand around the witch’s throat and the witch pinned kicking and yowling against the wall. But not before the witch throws the vial at Stiles feet and screeches at him in French. 

“Who are you?” Scott screams, while Stiles hops away from the cloyingly scented puddle around his feet. Some of it had splashed around his ankles, and definitely touched skin.  _ Fuck _ .

“Suck my cock.” The witch grunts, spittle forming at the corner of their mouth. 

They struggle uselessly, Scott tucks his arms around them and simply carries them over to Lydia. She pulls the syringe out of her purse, flicks the needle and squirts a little bit of the tranquilizer out to make sure there aren’t any bubbles, and gives them a polite smile and a tiny wave after she pricks them. Scott maintains a tight grip until the witch slowly ebs into unconscious. 

“That was easy, right?” Stiles asks while Lydia nods and crouches to inspect the small pool liquid. “Like,  _ super _ easy? Is anyone worried about how easy that was?”

Lydia pulls a cotton swab and a plastic baggie out of her purse. “Well, my French is a little rusty, but if what I heard is even partially correct things are probably going to be very difficult for you in a few hours, Stiles.”

Which is, well, frankly unsurprising. But still, “Fuck.”

 

**\--------------------**

 

It’s a little more than a few hours, as it turns out. They bring the witch to Chris Argent for questioning, and the cotton swab to Deaton for testing. They even make it out to dinner before Stiles really notices. It's not until he scratches at his jaw absently that he feels it. A searing pain that starts in the tip of his fingertips, spreads slowly down his arm. He sputters and chokes, nearly falls out of his chair. He’s too stunned at first to find the root of the problem, his hand cups his jaw and he feels his eyes start to water. His throat is too tight, the pain crawls behind his eyes and blurs out his vision. He’s too dizzy, can’t focus on anything in the room and his ears ring. He faintly hears Scott and Lydia call his name, muted behind the escalated ringing.

Eventually Scott snatches his hand away from his and the pain subsides as easily as it started. Stiles stares at his hand, unassuming if a bit alarming pale, and gulps. “That’s uh,” he watches Lydia riffle through her purse hastily, “that’s not good, is it?”

“No, babe.” Lydia sighs while she pulls out her phone and immediately calls Deaton. “Probably not.”

Stiles goes to scratch himself again, and Scott catches Stiles’s other hand and shakes his head disapprovingly. “Dude,  _ no _ . We just did this.”

“Right. Sorry.”

 

**\--------------------**

 

Stiles stands in front of the shower. Scott and Lydia had bailed on him to do some research on the curse. Deaton was at least able to tell them that if Stiles maintained skin to skin contact with himself he would be in unbelievable pain. So, of course, he’s now debating if its possible to shower and lather himself up without touching his skin directly. He has a loofa, but his scalp still probably counts which means he can’t wash his hair.

He sighs and decides it’s not worth the risk. Scott and Lydia are on the case anyways, it probably won’t be more than a day before he’s able to touch himself risk free. He’ll just shower when this is all finished, it likely won’t be that long of a wait. Besides, he’s going to have to spend some time figuring out how to pee without touching himself.

He sees a speck of food on his face from the sandwich he just ate and reaches up to brush it off with his hand. As soon as his fingers brush against his cheek he feels as if he’s been burned, with a small yelp stumbles back into the door, and manages to hit himself square in the back with the doorknob.

Right, well, it’s probably just a day.

 

**\--------------------**

 

Three days pass before Scott shows up to check on him. Three days alone in his dad’s house, unable to shower, being forced to sit down to pee (Which, actually, is kind of nice? He’s doing this forever.) and not even being able to jerk himself off to sleep on those nights where his eyes just can’t shut right and his brain doesn’t stop  _ working _ . Which is almost every night, because once the meds wear off for the day he’s stuck with rampant ADHD brain. 

Scott’s eyes widen when he steps into Stiles’ depression hovel room. He gets messy when he’s upset and can’t sleep, sue him. Scott’s nostrils also flair, and he takes a deep breath and gulps as he steps hesitantly into the room.

“How uh,” Scott gulps again, his eyes look a little wild as he looks around the room frantically, “how are you doing Stiles?”

“Well, Scott, I’m not doin’ great! I can’t shower, it’s hard to change my clothes and go to the bathroom, and I can’t even jerk off! The simplest of life's pleasures! Taken! I’m gonna bring back burning witches, Scotty!”

“Yeah, uh.” Scott licks his lips and stares intently at Stiles, who’s fidgeting on his bed in yesterday’s clothes. He hasn’t bothered changing yet because he can’t even shower and at this point he’s really just wallowing. “I actually don’t know if you can do that? Like, Chris kind of just let the one we caught go--”

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles laughs, sharp and a little unsteady, “Unbelievable!  _ I _ get hit with the sweatiest boy curse and  _ Chris _ just lets them go!”

“Yeah.” Scott’s voice is a little rough, a touch cracked around the edges. Stiles eyes him carefully. His nostrils are still flared, he keeps looking around the room, there’s a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he keeps fidgeting. “Lydia was pretty pissed about that too, actually. Something about ‘If our boyfriend dies I’m killing Chris’? I said no but she doesn’t listen to me so…”

Stiles snorts, “Uh, if anything I’m going to resurrect myself and help her murder him.”

“Yeah.” Scott says absently, as he steps to the bed with unprecedented focus considering how fidgety he’s been. “I guess.”

Stiles raise an eyebrow as Scott hovers over the bed and stares down at him. “You uh-- you feeling okay there, buddy?”

“Dude don’t take this the wrong way but, you smell  _ stupid _ good right now.” Scott takes a deep breath through his nose, and Stiles actually watches his eyes roll back and his eyelids flutter. “God, like, it’s you? But  _ so much _ ? I don’t know, man.”

Stiles licks his lips, looks at the tent forming in Scott’s jeans, thinks about last night and how he resorted to humping his pillow to no avail. He also lifts his arm and gets his nose as close to his armpits as possible to get a deep whiff. It’s not horrible, but it’s pungent. Musky sweats sort of the underlying smell, there’s definitely something akin to yellow onions and weed in there too. He winces, and looks up at Scott horrified.

“Dude, I’m like, objectively gross right now.”

“Man,” Scott groans and climbs into the bed, slides over Stiles lap, and braces his arms on the wall above Stiles head, “I don’t  _ know _ ? I’m just,” he leans down, Stiles hears claws scrape against the wall, feels Scott’s hot labored breath that comes with resisting the shift on his neck, “oh god I’m  _ really _ into it.” He dips lower, teeth just barely touch Stiles neck. He tentatively licks the skin, and lets out a deep groan at the taste. “Fuck, dude.”

Stiles stiffens a little under Scott, who, at the very least seems to notice and pulls back a bit. Scott hovers over Stiles, gently brings a hand down to rest on Stiles belly. Scott’s eyes are red, his breath comes out in hurried and hot little puffs that blow against Stiles skin, his hair is starting to grow out, and his fangs have slide into place from behind his otherwise unassuming teeth. Scott shifts a little on Stiles lap, inadvertently grinding his burgeoning erection against Stiles thigh.

Stiles gulps, wriggles underneath Scott and tries not to feel  _ too _ self conscious about the fact that wolfed up Scott riles him up. Scott rucks Stiles shirt up, lightly drags his claws over Stiles torso, and digs his nails into the soft flesh of Stiles belly; right above his groin.

“Dude.” Stiles looks up at Scott, eyes a little glazed, his own erection swells against Scott’s. “Really?” Scott nods and dips his nose in the crook of Stiles neck, inhales deeply while Stiles licks his lips and reaches around to grope at Scott’s ass. “Not that I mind the attention, but are you sure this is fine? I haven’t showered in  _ three days _ , Scott.”

Scott growls, threads his fingers through Stiles hair and tugs to bare Stiles neck. He leaves a small kiss there, before he trails his lips down Stiles neck to his shoulder. He leaves another kiss before he dips lower, the hand on Stiles belly slides down the front of Stiles sweatpants and cups his dick gently while Scott sticks his nose into Stiles armpit and inhales deeply.

“Yup, yeah,” Scott shudders and kisses the soft fleshy underside of Stiles arm, “this is happening.  _ Fuck _ . You got lube?”

“Fresh out.”

“Whatever.” Scott pulls back and tugs Stiles shirt up until Stiles picks himself far enough off the bed to yank it off. “I’m sucking your dick, then.” He balls the shirt in his hand and brings it to his face for a sniff. “It’s--” Scott growls again, his fingers flex and claws pick against Stiles belly. “God it smells like you? But more?” Scott tosses the shirt to the floor and kisses Stiles, slow and deep. He licks Stiles bottom lip, nips it lightly. “I would literally fuck that shirt right now.”

Stiles smirks, “You should ball it up and wrap it around your dick while you suck me off, then.” He doesn’t actually expect anything to come of that, but Scott whines and picks the shirt off the ground. “If you cum on that you’re washing it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Scott shimmies off Stiles lap enough to help him get his sweat pants off. “But, god, dude. It’s gonna smell like us even after I wash it, so honestly I might just keep it for a while.”

“I guess your enormous crush on Junkrat makes way more sense now.”

Scott huffs and slips his jeans off. “Yeah, well, now you’re my dirty,  _ dirty  _ boy.”

“Oh my  _ god _ \--” Stiles is cut off with another kiss, and by the small whine the curls in the back of his throat when Scott’s hand pushes past his underwear and gropes his balls.

Scott makes sure to scrape his claws against Stiles’s skin while he pulls Stiles underwear down. Stiles watches his dick, all three inches of it, spring free. Scott kisses his hip, then down Stiles’s thigh, he noses around Stiles’s balls and inhales deeply.

“ _ Dude _ .”

“Can’t help it.” Scott whines, he’s got the shirt balled up around his own dick and he pants while he thrusts into it.

Stiles pushes himself up onto his elbows to comment on Scott’s newfound appreciation for body odor, but he finds himself distracted by the sight of Scott’s closed eyed and utterly blissful face while he groans and drags one of Stiles balls into his mouth with his tongue. Stiles tenses, he falls back onto his pillow with a soft grunt. Scott’s got this unnatural focus when it comes to oral, he’s just a super attentive person. It’s great, actually, it’s probably one of Stiles’s favorite thing in the world; especially how pleased Scott looks with himself the entire time.

Scott lets out a groan, dribbles spit down Stiles balls and pops one out of of his mouth with a whine. “God your balls are so sweaty dude I’m fuckin’ losin’ it.” His words slur around his fangs, sloppy and useless while he drags his tongue back around Stiles’ sack. Stiles can feel the teeth poking around while Scott sucks, a slight threat that keeps his pulse a little too fast and makes his head spin.

Scott digs his nails into Stiles hips, makes him hiss and groan, and licks his way up Stiles’s shaft before he kisses the tip wetly. Stiles reaches down, cards his fingers through Scott’s hair and finds himself gripping and pulling and moaning when Scott engulfs him the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. One of the benefits of having a smaller dick, that he’s found at least, is that Scott can take the whole thing into his mouth with no trouble at all. It also means he has more room for tongue tricks, like the way he wraps his tongue around Stiles length and suction cups his way up and down, and flutters it along the base while he sucks.

He pants and groans while he watches Scott work, still thrusting into the shirt. He doesn’t usually last very long, Scott’s been sucking his soul out of his body since they were sixteen and at this point he’s reduced the entire process to a matter of minutes.

Scott slurps around him, gently gropes his balls with flashes of claws, and deep throated growls that make Stiles spine tingle. Stiles shudders, eyes roll up while he thrusts into Scott’s mouth and tugs at Scott’s hair. One of Scott’s hand reaches around, slides between Stiles and the bed and gropes pretty viciously at Stiles ass.

“ _ Fuck _ .” Stiles pants and his hips stutter. He’s close, Scott hasn’t let up at all and Stiles is sure his vision is starting to blur. Scott growls up at him again, eyes are a spiteful red, and Stiles cums with a choked off grunt and both hands buried in Scott’s hair. Scott holds steady, sucks until Stiles is softening and twitches away. Scott presses a kiss to his belly, groans deep and low while he tightens his grip around himself and the tee shirt.

Stiles tugs Scott’s hair, pulls his head up for a kiss and murmurs “You gonna fucking cum for me, Scott?” against his mouth to make Scott mewl and moan and whimper. Scott cums with Stiles biting his lip and tugging at his hair.

Stiles falls gently onto his back, Scott chases after him with sweet kisses. Scott rests his head on Stiles chest, idly checks his phone when he hears it vibrate from the ground.

“Oh, I think Lydia’s found a cure.”

“I’m sleepy.” Stiles yawns and wraps both arms around Scott. “It was like, three days of no jacking off, man, I  _ barely _ slept.”

Scott chuckles and texts Lydia that they’re probably going to be a few hours. He presses a kiss to the corner of Stiles mouth just as Stiles falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i am so tired, so very very tired. i think im writing again. more sciles, probably.


End file.
